


MCC - Murderer's Fall

by KillTheCat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Minecraft Championship, Angst, Death, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Games, Misunderstandings, Murder, Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheCat/pseuds/KillTheCat
Summary: According to Archiveofourown statistics, the author would be very happy if you gave this fic a chance  :)The Murder Championship happens every half a year.Dream suffered a brutal loss in the last season. Determined to erase his past mistakes and fears, he’s willing to do anything to claim the crown and disappear from this sick island forever.Until the Games itself turn against him and for the first time in life, the predator becomes the prey.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Corpse Husband & Sykkuno, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu / CaptainPuffy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> FACTS  
> 1) All the characters are inspired by their real personas. They share the same origins; however, their past is different, so if you see anyone acting out of character, it might be cause of a past trauma.
> 
> 2) The characters are mostly Minecraft YouTubers, but I also added a few people outside of MC for the sake of the story and plot – such as Corpse and Rusty Cage
> 
> 3) If any of the creators state that they are uncomfortable with their roles in this fic, I can either edit their character or replace it with another.
> 
> 4) If you find any mistakes, blame Grammarly :) jk, please write me in the comments, and I’ll repair it. If anyone would be interested in being my beta reader, you can write me.
> 
> 5) Please do not copy and repost this fic on other sites, such as Wattpad, etc. If I ever make a different account there, I’ll tell you.
> 
> 6) Enjoy :)

**Chapter 1 - Introduction**

The elevator went up.

A certain boy with a bright green hoodie was standing right in the middle of it, illuminated by a single bulb. The elevator walls were made of glass, and he could vaguely see his reflection on it. Otherwise, the machine was surrounded by dark square walls from the outside, empathizing on the claustrophobic feeling the elevator exuded.

Apart from the electric's drive sound, there were also low audible voices to be heard, signalizing what will happen soon. One of the louder sounds was the youngster's heart, whose quick beating melody has been suspending the voices with each strike and sending signals to the body to make his breath intake quicker and his hands sweaty.

A bystander could easily mistake these signals as a paralyzing state of fear.

However, if you looked closer beneath his masks, you could see the way his lips were tardily stretching more and more into a sinister smile; with each second, the voices got louder while he clenched his fists and his eyes sparkled with thrilling stimulation. These were not the signs of a frightened prey on a look for a way to escape. No prey could evacuate such a murderous aura while being trapped inside of a confined space.

These were the signs of a predator, whose meal hasn't yet realized their incoming demise.

„And now, time for the upcoming team! On the left side, we have Captain Sparklez, _the Uncrowned king._ Thanks to his _amazing_ sense of teamwork and cooperation, his teams always score high on the leaderboard, but despite that, so far he had not won even once. Will he be able to overcome his curse? I can't hear the answer!! "

The boy in an elevator could almost visualize the scene happening above them. Stuart, one of the game developers, will be introducing each participant with passion while making exaggerated gestures. Underneath him will be a thin translucent board with a purple outline, allowing him to levitate around the stadion. The stylish 3D glasses of his would make him look younger, along with the cheerful persona and the shit-eating grin ceacelessly on his face.

On the other hand, Captain would stand calmly with a thin smile, because being easy-going and friendly was his game persona. The photographers would adore his natty style, being the only of the participants styled in a black suit and shady red glasses. Not a common choice, since the first blood will be spilled soon and no one wanted their best clothes to get dirty. But it made him stand out among the rest, and in the fan's eyes, that mattered.

He would also wear a black leather collar around his neck and a clip with his team's symbol somewhere on his body, as every other participant.

The rotating platform or the elevator's flooring will make a 360-degree turn, and the broadcast screens above him will show the zoom of Captain's face.

After returning to his original position, Stuart will eagerly continue.

"We've been thinking a lot about who could be able to destroy the Captain's curse and bring our uncrowned champ to a victory. Ladies and gentleman, I think we found the right one – one of the MCC victors in the past, the shooter, whose bullets don't miss – please don't make this dirty crowd, look how he's blushing – the one who gained his freedom and lost it just so he could see each one of you again the _phenomenal_ sniper on the right side- Grian! "

The former winner's presence made the crowd even wilder.

Grian had a different approach than Captain. The moment he appears, he will hold up his head high, his gaze bulletproof, lips pursed into a tight smile. Nervousness will allow him just to awkwardly wave before he puts on a stoic mask and will hold his breath while trying to suppress the trembling in his posture. Grian would look more like a newcomer, than an experienced champion. His plain red shirt and black pants will not make him stand out anyhow. He could just easily be one of the viewers, if not for the Salamander clip on his left shoulder.

Also, if Dream tried to guess, Grian won't be wearing his crown, just like in any other Games. The greatest reminder of what he managed to achieve won't be with him. From what Dream had heard, Grian never wore it in the Games, not even for the introductions. The masked man had always pursed his lips in wonder, about this non-usual strategy. Everyone already knew of the previous winners, so there was no use in hiding one's status. No matter how well the Crowned ones could hide, they would still be the first in one's weapon's viewfinder.

Noxite will naturally boost the hype even more, bringing to show to its climax.

„And if somehow two high-placed individuals weren't enough to ensure this team's victory, we had come out with a backup plan – Misters and Missis, I think I don't have to reveal his name. Master of The Tag, individual records keeper, and the only one who ever finished The Parkour Game – _welcome Dream between us_! "

The boy in a green hoodie braced himself for what was about to come and closed his eyes as the bright light touched the upper part of the elevator, revealing his being to the world.

Even before he opened his eyes again, he knew what sight would welcome him.

Tall grandstands full of masses of people, wrapping the whole stage all the way around, harmonized in burgundy red, the color of the blood. The liquid, which will be shed in the games in a few minutes and which attracted those people so much. There will naturally be bettors around the fans in the stands, thanks to which the game will be more exciting. Near then will stand the analysts, trying to estimate the final winner or the first dead. All of them would wear glittered masks covering their faces as if they were attending a masquerade ball.

But even more disturbing will be the dozens of pairs of eyes staring from the darkened balconies above the grandstands. The eyes of people who have been deprived of their liberty and now have only one chance of regaining it. The eyes of desperate people, who can sacrifice everything just to taste the feeling of freedom again. The eyes of sadists, who see the games as an opportunity to deal with their deviations.

They all will look and analyze his every move, from the moment his glass dome appears in the light until the games are over, or when he exhales his final breath.

For an artist, it was a performance.

For Dream, it meant a set of analyses and probabilities. Pre-calculated smiles, fights, and cooperation to win the odds favor. Every player's single act changed their likelihood to win; every stumble and decision changed their overall ranking position.

Dream loved calculations.

His processor thought, software acted, and hardware executed.

It was a straightforward journey with a clear plan and no extra emotion.

Sometimes, it felt like he belonged here.

„The God of Mischief!" the fans screamed.

The boy's mask on a stage revealed only his smile, which had turned from a sinister to a cheerful one, the predator's face replaced by an innocent pull of corners of his lips. Only his eyes under the mask may keep their dark glow, and his hands, clenched in his pockets, may reveal his real intentions.

Any ordinary newcomer would be unsettled by the upcoming level of attention when all the screaming voices rose to a higher octave, and a Mexican wave surged through the fans area, but Dream was not the one who would focus on fame. The masked man released the grip on his fingers and waved with a silent smile, knowing that any words spoken would have faded in the stadium anyway.

The world began to spin, and for a moment, the stadium became a computer network. Dream took his place in the middle, just another article for receiving information and issuing orders. He was everything and nothing at the same time. The tapping of the keyboard took place to the sound of the camera's trigger-pushing. Everything around him moved a thousand times faster as the data streamed past him like falling confetti.

It was magnificent, yet temporary.

„And that is all from the team of Spotted Salamanders. There is one member currently missing, but we'll get to him later. Now let's proceed! "

Showtime ended as soon as the man disconnected Dream from the other networks and replaced him himself in the centre.

***

When they were out of reach of the hungry eyes, Grian took a deep breath, and his shoulders dropped. He leaned back on one of the wooden beams behind the loges and folded his arms across his chest, eyes closed. His posture was a little bit huddled as if experiencing physical pain. „Still can't take a small turn on the platform?" Captain joked and patted Grian kindly on the shoulder. „I don't want to imagine you on a merry-go-round."  
  
The stiff expression on Grian’s face formed a small smile, despite his visible discomfort. „You better step back two meters if you don't want to know the details of my breakfast."  
Dream looked at both of them from the side. He could try to guess, what was Grian experiencing right now, but truly, he didn’t bother. Feelings were vague and temporary, constantly changing. There were too many variables he needed to include to determine the result and right now, he didn’t deem it necessary. As long as his teammate could pull off his usual performance, there was no need to intervene.  
  
After all, Grian hadn’t become one of the Kings for anything.  
And even if normally the throne was passed on by heritage, in the Games, the only possible way was to conquer the castle.  
  
,,Will you be alright, though?“ Dream asked, his high tone masked with fake sincerity.  
„I'll be fine. Go ahead." Grian gestured toward the spiral staircase that led to the upper lodge, „don't miss your fun."  
Even though he tried to sound carefree, Dream could pinpoint the implied sarcasm in his words.  
Grian did not share his idea of entertainment.  
Dream tilted his head to the side, suppressing a looming smile.

„Captain?"

„I'll keep an eye on him," the other Salamander saluted, „Try to check the other teams. Many players might get irritated with our association, as it seems we have quite a strong team so far. Avoid trouble, if you can. We don't need to provoke more people's attention."

The man with a green hoodie made a sign of peace as he turned his back on them.  
„I'll leave you to yourselves, then."

****

It was lively up there. The entrance leads directly to the loge, which, like the stands, winded around the stadium. All the lodges were connected, unlike in theater. Instead of seats, there was only an empty wooden surface with a railing at its end.

Dream stepped forward, and all of a sudden, a black glove leaned against his chest.

„Collar," ordered the man with the black glove, appearing before him.

 _How rude,_ the masked man thought, but all it took was one look at the gun at the security's waist, and almost-silent approach of another guard from behind him, and Dream obediently loosed his hoodie at his neck. His black collar was revealed, and the guards let him go. With an inner scuff, Dream made his way again.

This time he managed to take two steps before his path was blocked off for the second time. „I would really appreciate a non-troubling passthrough if you wouldn't mind," commented the Salamander at the appearance of another male.

„Did you know that there is a brain-eating amoeba living in warm freshwater? It kills a human within seven days after inhalation."

His peace offering got completely ignored, but not like Dream expected otherwise. The other person tilted their hat up, and the green boy got a clear view of their face.

But the pleasant voice with a hint of dark, disturbing melody had been enough to identify the person even without that.

„Did it eat your brain?" Dream tauntingly smiled and leaned back on his heels a little bit, „cause it sounds like it."

„Careful," a voice, more profound than he ever heard ringed a warning in his left ear. The owner passed him from behind and joined his companion in front of him.

Dream peered through the mask into both pairs of dark stormy eyes.

„Rusty and Corpse. Nice day to see that you haven't given up your edgy style yet."

Both of them were dressed as if they had just returned from some crackhead's party. If their nails weren't painted black and Corpse didn't wear a metal chain around his neck and a rabbit's mask revealing only his left eye, they might have almost passed on as funeral attendants.

The family resemblance couldn't be denied there.

The only given premise that distinguished them on this aspect was Corpse's ruffled curls, while Rusty's hair was wavy and varnished upward.

„I see that fate has decided to put you together," Dream's gaze laid on the wolf-shaped staples fastened to both of the brothers' shoulders, „better make your mamma proud."

Suddenly he felt a quick movement toward him, and a cold metal pressed against his neck, right below his collar. Rusty abruptly stood much closer than before, his face just inches from his own.

„It's called _Naegleria fowleri_ ," his breath ghosted above Dream's throat, as the black man was a head shorter than him, but no less threatening, „the amoeba, I mean."

Dream was well aware of the sharpened metal blade against his skin, but he didn't feel any pain. Part of his brain was still trying to proceed why the smaller one was so obsessed with the amoeba, while his own hand slightly inclined towards the wrist area, to the hem of his hoodie. His fingers brushed against the familiar metal, meant for emergency cases. Just the mere touch made his blood circulation flow accelerate with memories. Just how many times the razor had to kiss one's vulnerable skin, until they learned their lesson? The Captain's parting words faded into a background echo, as he secured his grip and looked into his attacker's eyes.

The Salamander lips widened, the predator revealing his canines. That caused a rushed movement behind Rusty, the desperate attempt from a stressed brother to rescue his own blood.

Before the storm could cause any damage, an alien force intervened and squeezed his ribs from behind.

„Dreeam, my friend! Not even in a ring and already picking up a fight, that's just like you~."

Only an idiot would get involved in a fight that wasn't his.

„Wilbur," Dream acknowledged his old acquaintance with a perfectly calm tone. The owner of the saved life stepped away from him, and the masked man realized that the enemy's dagger was stained with red. He touched his neck on the spot where the knife had been seconds before and realized he was wounded.

„Wilbur stepped in front of the brothers, and before anyone could stop him, he gave them a bear hug.

„Thanks for taking care of my former teammate. Sometimes he has trouble knowing where the boundaries are. Oh, by the way, Ilumina went to puke. I don't think the presence of living and breathing people is good for his stomach. He would surely appreciate your company. "

The man who had just stopped the homicide winked at both men in black before turning around and entwining his elbows with Dream, „We'll see you in the Games! Don't get yourself killed!"

A crowd of onlookers immediately got out of their way, creating an undisturbed path around the perimeter of the stadium. Dream had to prolong his steps to match the faster pace of his higher companion. 

„I swear, the guards are completely useless. They just let a man with a knife in, no bother," the green man complained, as if he didn't carry similar device himself, secured under his hoodie, around his wrist.

"Oh, they just know the most dangerous are the ones _without_ a weapon, " Wilbur chuckled and slowed down as they got out of the center of events. He let Dream go and put his hands behind his head instead and leaned back slightly. Dream turned his gaze to the view of the team's introduction.

„I don't think so. The Rusty guy is really amazing with his skills. He was pretty high last Games on the individual scoreboard. And his brother is also not half bad. "

Wilbur dismissed Dream's acknowledgment by a wave of his hand and adjusted his beanie.

„Enough about the twins. Have you seen Techno? "

„I believe his team hasn't been introduced yet. "

„Let's take a look. "

They both found a vacancy by the display and watched Noxite's show. 

While you could not hear your own word below, here, all the audience's voices were muffled by an almost invisible barrier. It was about a meter behind the railing, emitting a dim red gleam, same as Noxite's platform. It separated the players from the events on the ground floor, allowing them to hear only Noxite's monologue.

Wilbur rested his elbows on the rail while the masked man remained standing.

„So, Aqua Axolotls, huh? "Dream's gaze flickered on the badge on the curly-haired companion's worn-out coat.

Wilbur grinned and ran a finger over the clip briefly. „Too bad they didn't put us together again. That shit we pulled off last time, that was _phenomenal_. "

Dream smiled briefly at the memory of the past game. „You blew up Corpse's building in Buildmart. No wonder they don't like us now. "

„You gave me the lighter. "

„And you executed it. "

„As I said, _phenomenal_. "

Techno's team was next. The first one on the left was a young girl in rainbow pajamas and gangster glasses. Dream didn't know her, but she must have been here for a few seasons. She stared into the audience with cheerfulness on her face as if the crown was already in her hands. A pink, parrot-shaped clip glittered on her shoulder. Several bundles of roses landed at her feet for her approach.

„Who is she?" Dream wanted to know. He must have not directly encountered her yet, otherwise, she would be added to his database. Thank God Wilbur's memory worked just like the brain of a gossiping granny who used to snoop around her neighbors all the time and reports on everything that rustled.

„Oh, that's Puffy. She's been here for a long time though, but she has changed her fashion style. Used to be more invisible. "

 _Now that's what I call invisible_ , Dream's eyes looked her small colorful figure up and down, but the apparition of another player kept him silent.

The man who joined the girl on a stage was also known as his rival. Many people called him a pig because of his boar mask, which covered half of his face and has been always present with him right from his first Games. The masks of the most were just for show, but his seemed sewed to his skin permanently. Nobody knew what he looked like, because he never took it off, despite many attempts at stealing it purposefully. Right now, he stood on the platform proudly, wearing even high boots, with a low heel shaped like a pig's hoof. Despite his nickname, he was an otherwise attractive man with aristocratic features and clothes that only added to his nobility. He wore a white shirt with ruffles on the sleeves and tight black trousers with a high waist and a red belt.

„Blood for the Blood God!" the fans screamed when the platform started to turn a revealed his royal red cloak, the two ends of which were tied together from the front of his shirt by a gold band. 

His hair was longer than Dream remembered. Like in the previous games, they were painted pink and woven into one thick braid that reached below his waist and was the cause of envy of many women.

But something has changed.

Up until the last Games, Techno got by with fancy clothes and a pompous attitude. This season, however, there was something to defend his disposition.

On top of his head, above his pig mask, the crown of the winner glittered.

Dream could visualize the last game of the previous championship as if it was happening right now.

***

_He felt goosebumps forming on his body and a chill running down his spine. Adrenaline flowed in his veins instead of blood, and his heart raced to warm its host before he froze to death. He had never felt so hot and cold at the same time before._

_His target stood directly across from him, on the roof of the second skyscraper. He couldn't see much; the darkness clouded his vision, so he moved simply instinctively, hoping the next step wouldn't lead him straight over the edge of the rooftop. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the raindrops hadn't been falling in his eyes, making it harder to see what was happening. The only thing that really cut through the blackness was the participants' sports vests, which shone reflexively with the color of their teams. He could dimly see the pig mask on the other side, along with the Blue Badgers' blue vest. For a single second, the surroundings were lightened up by a strike of thunder, making the same sound as his rapid heart._

_Suddenly he felt a prickle on his neck and instinctively rolled over on the ground to dodge a possible attack. The bullet missed him by inches. It bounced off the roof like a ping-pong ball and ended up on the other side of their area, where Wilbur kept his position. He had been aiming at the other side, but his bullet missed shortly after._

_„_ _It's behind you!" screamed Dream._

_Wilbur looked over, but any further action was interrupted by a shot following a girl's scream._

_The world stopped spinning for a moment, and Dream saw the flash of his team's orange vest changing its angle unnaturally. A curtain of wet blond hair flew forward while the owner flew back. How did she get so close to the edge?_

_The curly-haired teammate didn’t even hesitate. He left his position and darted out toward the falling girl across the puddles, forgetting all the pre-prepared orders, when looking into the widened shaky eyes of a girl he deeply cared for._

_Dream didn't see the endgame; his processor focused on the free ammo._

_Ignoring all the other aspects, he dashed to where his companion had stood, the sounds of thunders accompanying his steps. He skilfully leaped over the body of his other stunned teammate, who had been eliminated early in the game._

_This is the last chance, he thought, ignoring Wilbur's shout in the background._

_He gripped the little plastic thing between his fingers, ignoring its heat, while he slid over the damp surface to avoid becoming an easy target. Still crouching, he reloaded, and his body adopted a learned position._

_I won, the thought crossed his mind as he found a pig mask in the gun's sight. The sound of shot being fired came suddenly and sent him backward._

_For a moment he waited for the hard surface of the roof to appear beneath him, but it never did_

_***_

A chill ran through his body, just as it had on that fateful night. A mixture of emotions rose inside of him but was suppressed just as quickly.

Dream glanced at his companion so he could concentrate on analyzing other people's feelings instead of his own.

Wilbur choked with laughter when almost as many flowers landed at Techno's feet as the Pajama girl's.

The pig didn't seem very happy about it, but the number of clicking cameras meant a delighted audience, which was the key to happiness.

Dream always preferred to hide in the shadows and play imaginary chess, with individual players as pieces, instead of gathering himself a fanclub. But the crowd's favor seemed to have a positive effect on the man, the pig always performing new and new tricks with every increase of the fans number, like Wilbur from _Charlotte's Web._

„… and now, I want a big round of applause for woman, who had stolen more than one heart on our viewer's side and _even_ in the participants club already – welcome _Nihachu_ on the stage! "

Dream almost felt Wilbur's body stiffen beside him. His breathing suddenly became much faster, and his eyes looked like a squeezed frog. „She's on Techno's team," he gasped as if such reality could only occur in another dimension.

The masked man turned back toward the stage.

The brown-eyed blonde got almost as many flowers to welcome her as Techno and Pyjama combined. Her beautiful face was definitely a big part of her charm. Despite her high military boots and camouflaged shorts, the girl looked as if she couldn't hurt a fly.

The least dangerous players usually acted the toughest on the outside, which included heavily armed outfits, body paintings, and piercings wherever visible.

But Dream couldn't be fooled twice.

He knew that seemingly innocent people were capable of causing the most damage, and the girl below was no exception.

The masked man hadn't figured it out either before it was too late.

Dream's eyes narrowed at the memory, and an involuntary smile appeared on his face. _This year will be interesting, indeed._

„Quite a strong team we have there," he deliberately started a conversation to pull the young men beside him out of his depressive thoughts.

Wilbur winced, but he was instantly caught like a fly on a glue. „Yes. Yes, they are indeed. But if I were you- If I were you, I would be worried about other things." His voice was cracking and his speech quickened.

Dream's eyebrows rose behind the mask.

„And what is that? "he pushed a little. 

Like with the snap of fingers, Wilbur leaned forward, his shoulders starting to twitch uncontrollably.

The God of Mischief turned his head slightly to the side, expression unreadable, lips drawn back.

The sounds around them faded into the background. It was as if they were in a bubble that momentarily separated them from the rest of the world. The stinging sensation in the man's neck signaled that they were being watched, but something told him that what was happening right now next to him was more important.

„Wilbur," he said carefully, aware that any wrong word could mean stepping on a mine, „why did you go to find me? "

They weren't friends. Friendship could have killed you in the game. All that existed was a temporary truce or debt.

People who had friends died first and usually not by their own fault.

A hoarse sound began to emanate from the curly-haired man's throat, warning that another part of his consciousness would soon shatter.

Dream suddenly felt an unknown force pull him closer, and he could swear that dark spirals began to swirl in Wilbur's eyes.

„I have a plan, Dream," he whispered as he roughly clung to the green sweatshirt, his lips sculpted into an unnaturally wide grin, showing his teeth.

All of Dream's instincts were _screaming_ at him to stay away, to move back before it was too late, but his feet remained firmly on the ground. He ignored all his thoughts, which had already calculated all possible options for counterattacking and eliminating the enemy. He couldn't afford to withdraw when he was so close to the information he needed to know. Any sign of hesitation on his part could result in losing Wilbur's trust and breaking all the ties.

„and it's going to be brilliant, oh I swear, it's going to be-" Wilbur's pupils, impossibly close to Dreams, suddenly dilated, and Dream could have sworn he heard the young man's heart skip a beat. Suddenly, Wilbur drew back, part of his sanity taking back control of his actions.

Dream allowed himself to inhale again. He could feel the wound on his neck begin to open anew, but he didn't dare to make any move. He waited, like a cat lurking in a dark alley, for its prey to be trapped.

„Phenomenal," Wilbur finished, clutching his head with a bandaged hand.

The stinging sensation in his neck intensified, and the Salamander flashed a brief glance toward the view. On the other side of the stadium, across from them, stood two reapers, together with another black-clothed man.

Looking back, he found Wilbur standing with his head bowed, turned away, probably absorbed in his own thoughts. Dream felt he wouldn't get anything else from him, so he took the liberty of staring back at the other team.

Last year, the man playing Dream's shadow still had a fluff of brown hair. After an accident involving Wilbur's fire explosions, he was forced to switch to a black balaclava that hid his shame.

Dream's mind was still replying memory with the scrawny young man running and screaming from the explosion, his hands desperate to stifle the flames licking his curls.

This year, the young man had the same mark on his shoulder as Rusty and Corpse. The three white wolves stood side by side, all matched in the same color, all holding the same posture with their arms crossed over their chests. Dream would have laughed out loud if he himself hadn't been one of the top names in their death note.

Instead, he threw a smug grin directed at Illumina, a man whose speed and skill had once been an inspiration to him, which Dream lately had reshaped to his own style.

„You know, this Games will be a lot of different than the past ones," muttered Wilbur, whose breathing had slowed down during Dream's staring contest, "they had put the twins finally together, so they now have a fully-fledged reason to try. We thought we'd gotten rid of Techno, but he's back, and he's got more attention than ever, which only makes him more fired up. And I think today was the first time I heard that Mexican player speak English. These games will be... Interesting. "

Unconsciously, Dream put his hand on the wound on his neck and turned his attention to the events below. Meanwhile, Wilbur came up to him again, his back leaning against the railing.

„I know, Wilbur. And you know if you ever needed aid, I'll be right behind you, no matter what team I am. "

Wilbur chuckled, and his eyes regained their usual luster. „I know. You're the only one who's been there for me no matter what, after all. "

Dream's usual smile returned to his face, while the image of the artificial bubble around them burst and suddenly, they were no longer alone.

„And now, since we know all the teams, it's time to welcome our new recruits! "

_D_ rea _m’s diary_

_# score = Avarage rounded score on the leaderboard in all participant’s previous Games, ranked individually_

_# height is in centimeters_

_#_ _crowned = if the person previously won the Games_

_# bond = if person shares a strong bond with someone, be it a family member or other participant_

class Participant: _  
_def __init__(self, name, height, score, job, bond, crowned): _  
_self.name = name _  
_self.height = height _  
_self.score = score _  
_self.job = job _  
_self.bond = bond _  
  
  
_def crowned(self): _  
_self.crowned = True _  
  
_def crowned(self): _  
_self.crowned = False _  
  
  
_p1 = Participant("RustyCage", 167, 5, "hitman", "Corpse", False) _  
  
  
  
_rusty_attributes = ['creepy, nonbeliever, older_brother, introvert, thinker, perceptive, mad, musician, pessimist, unstable']  
rusty_possesions = ['knifes, ropes']  
weaknesses = ['Corpse, hot sauce']


	2. Greenhorns - part I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be divided into two parts.  
> I've decided to write shorter chapters/parts of them so I could manage my update schedule without it being too overwhelming for me.
> 
> A little motivation - if this fic reaches 10+ Kudos, I'll do everything in my power to publish the next part asap :)  
> Enjoy :3

**Greenhorns - part I.**

The stadium's image has changed.

Where there were previously three delimited fields connected to underground elevators, there were now seven of them. They were spread around the perimeter of the stadium, equally distant, sharing the same circular shape. At the wave of Stuart's hand, the lights in the room dimmed, and the stadium fell into the gloom.

The change in surroundings also caused a shift in the atmosphere. Cheering people, brimming with eagerness for their favorite celebrities, suddenly fell quiet, as if a wave of muteness had passed over the stadium. There was a form of emptiness in the room, resembling an old abandoned house, with only watchfull ghosts as its occupants. The seven platforms on the stage were all that remained illuminated.

The Gamemaster, who had spent most of the previous time on stage, remained now alone on the audience side. He stood in the middle of the terraces, about two meters above the ground, simulating a supernatural being who enjoyed to play with mortal lives and explore their fragility. His levitating board's backlight emitted a radiant glow, making him clearly visible to the human eye.

Stuart, turning his back to the crowd, raised his hands up to the height of his gleaming eyes, like a magician showing off his new trick.  
„ _And here they are! "_

The sound of moving fields drifted across the room, the platforms sliding sideways into the floor until they became part of it. The movement of several heavy components at once brought up a sudden gust of wind on the stage, and many people drew their garments closer to their bodies. Dream checked the fastening of his mask himself, and Wilbur pinned down the dark beanie to his head.

On top of the monitored screens was a tape timer with large orange dials, showing 15:00. The same indicators had to be all the way around the center to be visible from all sides, as well as the screens. The moment Stuart spoke, the time started to count down.

The Opening Game was about to begin.

Seven glass domes, with a noisy rattle, came to the surface and introduced seven new faces. Each of them stood in their own illuminated space while the glass walls were retracting back under the floor.

The difference between a group of professionals and greenhorns couldn't have been greater.

If professional's acts had been an imaginary performance, then the rookie inclusion became a harsh reality.

People welcomed experienced players with applause and flowers because they appreciated their abilities and the show they put up. They were their supporters, and the players, in return, brought them intensity in the form of more bloodshed. After surviving the first Games, most of them no longer had to prove their worth to the world.

But welcoming newcomers included, above all, nothing more than shameless staring and waiting to see who would break first. The analysts evaluated the quality of the new meat, and bettors estimated future outcomes. The fans just cared about the amount of blood.

And there was no lack of it right from the start.

At the front of the stage, on her dais of fame, laid a woman. Her body was curled up in a ball as if she was trying to hide from the world. The woman's head laid closer to the auditorium, legs pointing toward the center of the stage. Her almost gauzy blouse of a sky blue color and a pair of low shoes further underlined the girl's innocence. A wave of black hair flowed over her shoulders, hiding her face. She looked young and harmless like the Games weren't intended for her.

A more experienced observer would notice her shoulders' jerky movement as if she was losing her chance to breathe.

One of the youthful-faced boys closest to the girl dared to move first. He took the first step off the platform but held back, with the expression of a frightened puppy. „Hey," whispered the boy under his breath, before swallowing, his tremors voice suddenly gaining strength, „hey! What's wrong with her? Somebody help!" There was no response, but the young man began to approach the girl again. It seemed like he didn't care at all about the audience intensively watching every move he made, his sky blue eyes glued to the motionless girl. „Oh frick," he muttered, stumbling over his own feet like a newborn foal, „I-I‘ll help. Hold up.“

Dream cocked his head to the side and studied the boy with interest.

Those who deviated from the mass first almost always deserved documentation.

Of all the new entrants, he was the highest. He was wearing a white T-shirt with its short red sleeves revealing a pair of slender arms, allowing onlookers to assess his physical fitness. His body was athletic, but unlike most of the participants, there were no scars on him at first glance. The boy looked as if he‘d never been involved in a school fight in his life, let alone a real battle for survival.

The pup must have either had a lot of guts or was just excessively stupid.

Coming out of the crowd‘s invisibility to help another, without the experience of physical confrontations, was in the Games like writing down your last will.

But no one tried to stop him, so the blond bent over the girl‘s body. An expanded image of the young man on the broadcast televisions above the stadium showed a few drops of sweat forming on his forehead. His lips were moving, but only incomprehensible jabber came from the sound. It seemed like the one-sided monologue encouraged him. 

A heartbreaking scream cut through the stadium, and the screen now displayed a standing brown-haired girl. She was beside the girl‘s body, on the second platform. Her lips were parted, signaling that the scream had come from out her. She stared with wide raccoon eyes at the limp body the young man had turned. The blond collapsed beside the lying girl on his knees, giving the balcony occupants a glimpse of the situation.

A thin blade pierced the middle of the girl‘s belly. It wasn‘t one of Rusty‘s play pocket knives, but a kind of short machete that Dream had noted in his mind.

The abdomen wasn‘t the only injured area. There were minor cuts on both of her hands, accompanied by a deeper wound on her left forearm. The blood was dark and gradually flowed out from the scratch. Her soaked blouse was about a shade darker around the wounded area, and the girl‘s expression faced the ceiling.

Her gray eyes seemed like half-extinct candles, the lifespan of which might be ended by a mere breeze. Paths of tears glistened across her face as they trickled down her cheeks. She was incredibly pale as if she no longer belonged among the living. Her jaw muscles were weakly moving, perhaps trying to easier her breath intakes or to communicate. It might be the last words on the tombstone when someone comes to collect the body.

„If we don't close the wound,“ said a thin voice Dream had not heard before, „they'll bleed out soon...“

It belonged to a dark-haired boy in a distant part of the stage, hidden behind a wooly scarf. His eyes were fixed on the screens above, which were recording the girl‘s condition. Unlike the blond‘s fluctuate voice, the newcomer‘s sounded almost composed, but Dream could sense a trace of fear in it. It surrounded him like a polluted cloud that had contaminated him from afar. The scarf man stepped down from the dais, but Dream knew that the shadow of hesitation united with the stinging humans stares prevented him from further approaching the pair.

Not everyone dared to stand out.

The blond man, however, under the influence of the man‘s words suddenly straightened. ,,Medical care,“ his trembling voice, in fluttering vibrations, carried through the stadium. Suddenly he moved away from the girl and vigorously stood up, facing the other newcomers. His blue eyes on the screen mirrored something similar to hope. „Is there any doctor?! We need an ambulance and- and-.“

„Yea, we heard that one already. Now piss off.“

The whole podium fidgeted in an alert.

The hoarse voice came from behind.

Two men walked fearlessly from the farthest point from the lying girl, across the stage. Each of them could be about six feet tall, but their body language made it seem like they towered over the others. They casually approached the scene of the crime, with their shoulders down.

The man who had spoken earlier had oval facial features, and a white sports bandana was fastened around his forehead. His hands were folded behind his head, his posture slightly tilted back. Dream couldn‘t _not_ imagine him as a high school rebel, the kind who throws his classmates' bags through the window during breaks and draws socially unaccepted signs across the board.

Bandana‘s chest stretched back and forth, according to the footsteps’ rhythm, like a dance. Despite his gloomy brown eyes and rough tone, a smug smile was permanently on his lips. His movement carried a relaxed lightness, far more like a man going on a picnic rather than approaching an almost lifeless body.

It sent a chill down Dream‘s spine, but the black-haired man‘s energy was contagious, and he couldn‘t resist smiling a little. From the very moment, when the elevators arrived, and new faces were revealed, he had been able to guess the potential dangers of each individual. It was a skill he had brought with him to the Games and perfected it even more in the process.

The leading indicators were reactions to the exposure of the girl‘s condition.

The first group of people, like the blond and the raccoon girl, showed open shock. Their senses screamed, and for seconds, their minds were taken over by the emptiness that protected their consciousness from a traumatic occurrence. These reactions marked newcomers who formerly weren‘t involved in a bloody branch, and this was most likely their first experience of an assault. Most of them turned out to be petty thieves, snitches, or people who stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The second group of people included a man with a scarf and the last newcomer, a boy in a green farm shirt. Usually, they were people with fingertips dipped into the black business, but still only on the superficial layer of crime. Outwardly they created calm, unbiased positions, trying to deceive reality, but observers' eyes couldn‘t be fooled.

Neither of them had approached the girl, nor had they looked at her directly. While the scarf man had dared to see her solely on the screen, the farm boy‘s gaze had touched the girl only for a moment, before retracting. Many viewers had reverted their eyes back to the girl at this point, but Dream kept watching him. He had seen the contraction of the farm boy's pupils as he had been looking aside, loosely thinking the attention had been averted from him. The suppressed emotions made his eyes glossy, as he allowed himself to throw a look full of desperation on the blond boy, his fist clenching and shaking all the time.

Dream would recognize this kind of look even if he became blind.

He read it out from Corpse’s face as Rusty threatened Dream with a knife on the balconies.

He recognized it on Quackity‘s as the guards searched his room‘s drawers and confiscated two packets of meth.

And it was Wilbur‘s expression as he set out to rescue his girl at the top of the skyscraper in the fateful game.

Humans shaped this kind of expression when their loved ones founded themselves in danger. When errors, which were the sources of their bad decisions, weaknesses, and emotional instability, got caught in life-threatening situations.

Unlike most other people, Dream preferred to identify the bug and then remove it rather than let it contaminate his program.

The blond was still standing in place, between the woman‘s body and the approaching pair. Any other reasonable person with the slightest survival instinct would have gotten out of the way long ago, but the blond was obviously deprived of that innate attribute. „What-what are you gonna do to her?“ viewers watched with regret as he adopted a defensive position three feet in front of the girl. Bandana‘s carefree attitude must have set off a red alert in the boy‘s brain and roused his protectionist instincts.

The black-haired man grinned broadly, a third class archetype creeping into his eyes.

„I'll chop her up into a pâté and send her home on the return address. What else could I possibly do?"

Only people who regularly treated or inflicted injuries had a mentality strong enough to not react or avoid the sight of blood. And out of the six motion-capable recruits, only two lived up to that assumption.

The man with a bandana and his spectacled companion, who had just taken control over the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dream's diary will be at the end of the second part, where we'll discover some info about Corpse :)
> 
> Next chapter, we'll have first eye contact between Dream and George, so those who came for the Dnf ship, beware.
> 
> If you liked the chapter, don't be shy to write a comment, or support me with kudos, it's free and it gives me motivation :3

**Author's Note:**

> The Dream's diary serves mainly for my own amusement. Since he’s an IT nerd, I wanted to show him coding his diary in Python, where the object is one of the participants and the file contains various information about them. If there’s any Python nerd here, I would appreciate any help writing/coding this since my coding experiences are close to zero.
> 
> Also, RustyCage is in his twenties here, to match Corpse's age.
> 
> There is a summary of the current teams we know:  
> Spotted Salamanders – Dream, CaptainSparklez, Grian, ?  
> White Wolves – Corpse, RustyCage, Ilumina, ?  
> Pink Parrots - Techno, CaptainPuffy, Nihachu, ?  
> Aqua Axolotls – Wilbur, ?, ?, ?
> 
> The next chapter is currently in process; the update should be within a week.


End file.
